Dislocated
by Madam Mare
Summary: When the banging didn't work, he grabbed the machine at the sides and rocked it a bit. As he did this, a voice that was decidedly Jemma's rang out in his head, reminding him just how many people were killed per year by vending machines.


XXXX

"There must be some reason why Ward did it," Fitz said dejectedly, staring into the depths of the pool, "maybe they brainwashed him."

"Don't know," Simmons replied, "some people are just evil."

"Well, I'd rather not believe that," he shifted his weight back onto his palms.

"It's true, I just assumed I'd be better at spotting it," she argued bitterly.

Fitz paused, "Tell me that you're not Hydra."

"What?" Simmons raised an eyebrow in disbelief, turning sharply to look at him.

"I know that it's ridiculous, but I need to hear you say it," he said sadly.

Understanding came over Simmons face then and she leaned towards him, catching his eye, "I'm not Hydra."

"Yeah, good, good" he nodded before nervously stuttering out, "and I-cuz I'm not either."

"Of course not," Simmons felt some of the nervous tension leave her body and she went back to staring across the pool.

"Yeah, because-because if you ever did,"

"I wouldn't," her reply was firm when she cut off his train of thought and returned her attention to him.

"I don't know what I would do," Fitz plowed ahead, trying, praying that she would understand what he was trying to say, without actually saying it.

"You'll never have to find out," she smiled at him reassuringly.

Fitz broke his gaze with her and returned his attention to the pool, the small smile dropping from his face. Simmons suddenly reached over and put her hand on his knee, rubbing it comfortingly. As he looked down at her hand, he felt the usual warm spread of affection rush through his chest.

He didn't know when exactly he had fallen in love with his best friend. He knew when he realized he was in love with her, of course, but he struggled to pinpoint where his feeling went from 'you're my best friend in the world and I would do anything for you' to 'you're my best friend in the world, I would die for you because I am too far gone to ever live in a world that you are not a part of'.

With Jemma's hand spreading warmth on his knee, he lost himself in his thoughts. Thoughts of a world without Hydra, with Jemma and himself safe in a lab where maybe, just maybe he would have the courage to come right out and tell her what he had been desperately trying to show her for weeks. His musing was suddenly interrupted by a loud gurgle of his stomach.

Jemma looked over at him with a smile, "Hungry?"

Fitz put a hand over his stomach, hopping to dim the offending noise it now seemed intent on making and nodded.

Jemma swung her legs out of the pool and bent down to pick up her boots while Fitz tried not to stare at the way the water beaded on her lower legs. "Come on then," she offered her hand to him. "I hear the vending machine has some great snacks."

Fitz stared at her hand for a moment before collecting his sneakers from beside him and allowing Jemma to tug him up. His heart sank a bit when Jemma released his hand once he was on his feet, but quickly jumped started when she looped her arm through his as they began to walk back to their room. Once there, they deposited their shoes by the front door and Jemma plopped onto the bed, rolling her pants back down her now dry legs. "Why don't you find us some snacks and I'll make some tea?" she motioned to the electric kettle on the table.

Fitz nodded, "In the mood for anything in particular?"

Jemma thought for a moment and then shrugged, "You know what I like."

Fitz smiled. He did. And she usually ended up stealing half of what he liked as well. Reaching the vending machine next door he took in his options and pulled some bills out of his pocket. The first thing he spotted was Jemma's favorite American candy bar. He could still remember the first time she tried it and gushed over the brilliance of combining pretzels, peanut butter and caramel. He quickly selected that, as well as a bag of flaming hot Cheetos for himself. Gathering the snacks he then selected a Snickers bar for himself and then a bag of Jemma's favorite chips. The Snickers bar dropped with a thunk and then the machine whirled, preparing to drop the sour cream and cheddar chips for Jemma. He waited but there was no quiet thunk to signal that the bag had fallen.

"Oh come on," Fitz banged lightly on the glass over the chips. The metal rod had not completely released it so it was dangling at the end of the line. When the banging didn't work, he grabbed the machine at the sides and rocked it a bit. As he did this, a voice that was decidedly Jemma's rang out in his head, reminding him just how many people were killed per year by vending machines. He sighed and pondered his options. He didn't have enough money left to make another selection that would release the chips, and banging and shaking clearly weren't getting him anywhere. He bent down and pulled open the flap at the bottom of the machine and peered up. The chips weren't _that_ far up. He positioned himself on his knees and maneuvered his hand up the inside of the machine.

"Fitz?"

Fitz could hear Jemma approaching and he stretched just a little bit more to try and reach the bag.

"Ugh, Fitz," Jemma cried, rounding the corner, "what are you doing? You're liable to hurt yourself doing that!"

"It's fine Jemma," he twisted slightly to reassure her.

No sooner did those words leave his mouth, he heard a loud popping noise and his face twisted in discomfort as a searing hot pain developed in his shoulder. He yelped as he pulled his arm out of the machine and to his horror it hung limply at his side.

"Fitz!" Jemma tisked, dropping to her knees by his side. She gently tugged the collar of his shirt down and quickly confirmed her diagnosis, "You dislocated it. Come on, the sooner I can get it back in place, the sooner the pain will lessen."

She gently helped him to his feet, but he couldn't help the slight whimper that escaped his mouth as his arm jostled a bit. Jemma grabbed the snacks that Fitz had managed to get prior to the accident, and then spying an empty ice bin, she quickly filled it with ice and then led Fitz back to their room. She motioned to one of the beds, "Lay down on your back."

Fitz complied, and then Jemma came over helped him shift into position. She straightened his arm out and laced her fingers with his. She gave his hand a comforting squeeze, and her other hand brushed through his curls, "This is going to hurt a bit," she warned.

Fitz closed his eyes when he felt Jemma's nails lightly scratch against his scalp and tried to concentrate on her soothing touch, nodding when she warned him.

Settling next to him on the bed, Jemma propped one of her feet under Fitz's arm for leverage and then began to slowly stretch his arm out. Fitz grunted in pain as the pressure increased.

"I'm sorry Fitz, it's almost there," Jemma apologized and then a few seconds later she saw the joint pop back into place. "There we are," she gently set his arm down and slid off the bed to rummage through her bag. Fitz saw her grab something and then she disappeared into the bathroom. Jemma reemerged with a hand towel and then she grabbed the ice bucket and then returned to him. Rejoining him on the bed with a scarf, she helped him sit upright and with a few quick loops and knots, fashioned a makeshift sling out of her scarf.

"Thanks Jemma," he sighed in relief when she gently set the towel with ice in it on his shoulder and handed him a few pain killers.

"What are best friends for?" she teased as she settled herself against his good side, retrieving their snacks from the bedside table. Her eyes lit up when she spotted the candy bar that Fitz got for her.

"Sorry I couldn't get your chips," Fitz mumbled around a mouthful of Cheetos.

Jemma rolled her eyes, snagging a handful of his Cheetos, "Fitz, a bag of chips was not worth dislocating your shoulder.

"I know, but-" he began to argue.

"Hush," she cut him off and clicked on the small TV, tuning into a Law & Order marathon, "before I eat all your Cheetos."

He paused, and then loudly crunched down on a Cheeto. "Jemma?" he asked after swallowing.

"Hmm?" she turned to look at him.

"We're not going to tell Coulson how this happened, right?"

"Of course not! Besides," she grinned, "I'd be much more concerned with Skye finding out how it happened."

Fitz groaned, knowing if the hacker ever found out, she would never let him live it down. He took in Jemma's profile from the corner of his eye. He knew that as much as Jemma might tease him about it, the details would remain between them. He supposed sometimes, you didn't have to tell someone how you felt about them when their actions showed it.

~Fini~


End file.
